Chapter 59

The car seemed to be moving in slow motion as the familiar sites of the city he grew up in passed outside his window. Sam pressed his foot into the floor as if he had his own phantom controls to make the car go faster in the back seat of the sedan. The wool of his coat scratched his cheek as he nestled lower in his seat, eyes still trained out the window. The sole means for blocking out the woman at his side. Although it was an effort in futility really, he was painfully aware of every move Quinn made. The scent of her hair filled the car, the edge of her black coat flapped against his thigh each time she shifted, and the grip on his hand tightened whenever she breathed in or out. As much as he tried to ignore her, Quinn was putting just as much effort into making her presence known, at least that's how it felt to Sam.

They'd gotten in the car without a word. Daley was never given any instruction on where to take them he just started up the car and drove. As they made their way down the mile long driveway and toward the city, Sam waited for Quinn to alert Daley of their destination, he was anxious to hear it in fact, but she said nothing, and neither did he. Sam felt like he was riding blindfolded into an abyss. Making Quinn tell him flat out where she left Beth would have made more sense and definitely would have settled his nerves, but knowing would also make the pain come faster. At least this way he still had time to hold onto his fleeting hopes that all of this was a bad dream. They weren't in a car going to what in all honesty was a crime scene, but instead they were heading to the Beacon and their private birthday celebration they had planned.

The birthday party in his honor seemed so long ago. The mood to celebrate anything had left his body the moment he knew his daughter was left alone in the snow. Just the very idea that something so pure and innocent could be left in the pristine blanket of whiteness was almost surreal. He supposed babies and snow went together metaphorically at least, both were new and pure, fresh, untouched, and at first so perfect. Only the soot from chimneys and cars or the plodding of human feet destroyed its beauty. Babies were the same unmarred by the harshness of life until their parents get hold of them and take a bit of their innocence away each day. Sam had always loved the snow, as a child it meant snow days, hot chocolate, throwing snowballs at Figgins, and that love never faded as he grew up, snow still made him smile, made him secretly long to pack it into balls to hurl at Figgins, but now that had changed, the thought of snow was making his stomach turn as he struggled to keep the image of Beth cold and blue from his mind.

Quinn's nails grazed his skin, his palm tingling from the contact. It was as if she were in his mind monitoring his thoughts since whenever he seemed to think about what happened to Beth too long she did something to pull him out of it. He would have thanked her for keeping him out of that dark place, he didn't want to focus on his baby in peril, but the problem was Quinn was the one that caused the danger to their daughter. So instead of her efforts to pull him from the depths being a comfort, it was more like being seesawed from one hell to another. Sam wasn't quite sure which was worse, being trapped with the images of his daughter freezing in the snow, or being stuck beside the woman that put her there.

Sam put his other hand in the pocket of his pants, for safety, in the unlikely event Quinn leaned across his lap and tried to hold that hand too. How did this happen? Never had he felt so on edge around Quinn before. She'd always been the person he wanted closest to him. Now just the fact that she was holding his hand was bothering him, yet he couldn't bring himself to let go. What would happen if he did? Would the last piece of life as he knew it slip away into the night? Sam wasn't ready to take that chance, so instead he endured her touch and tried not to focus on the stranger she had become.

Sam wiggled his fingers in his pocket, reaching for one last chance for peace, perhaps for their salvation. Hidden in the depths was the ring he bought for Quinn all those years ago, that brilliant green emerald that held so much promise for their future, yet he never had the chance to give it to her. When he dragged her out of his dad's study insisting she take him to the spot where she had left Beth, he had been a little unsteady from their emotional conversation and all the scotch he had consumed. He had yelled for Figgins in the foyer, ignoring his mother's questions on the way up the stairs to retrieve Quinn's coat and a bit of his sanity. Alone in his room he let out the silent scream he had been stifling since Quinn told him she left Beth alone in the cold. Nothing about any of it seemed real and he actually banged his head against the wall a few times just hoping that all of this could be knocked out of his mind. The only thing gained from that exercise was an increased throbbing in his head.

He had spotted the ring on the way out, a glint from the stone in the light brought him to it and instinctively he picked it up, running his finger over the smooth gold. A couple of weeks ago the ring had meant so much, a symbol of all the good things ahead, even earlier that evening when Quinn came into his room like a beautiful angel, Sam had dreamed about the moment when he would give her that ring, he was so tempted to pull it out then and there and place it on her finger, but he couldn't because of Mercedes and the commitments he had with her. Now he held onto that ring in his pocket, rubbing it with his thumb like a lucky rabbit's foot, but its magical powers had yet to be revealed. Despite all of his rubbing and wishing, he was still in a car with Quinn heading toward possibly the worst moment of his life.

Quinn seemed to be stuck in a dream state of her own as she discarded her usually subdued demeanor and began to chatter on enthusiastically like a maniac travel agent trying to get him to make a reservation. Apparently the suites at the Beacon were spacious and the service impeccable, and the views of the city unmatched. Then her mood shifted suddenly and her voice took on an almost wistful tone when she brought up the sunset, as if she were physically wrapping herself in the words.

"You were beautiful in the sunset," she said unexpectedly. "I never knew it was possible to be happy in the midst of so much pain, but with you at the Beacon it happened."

Sam turned to look at her, for the first time in many miles, praying that braving her face would somehow make her words make sense. The incongruity of the moment had him reeling almost as much as the knowledge of what she'd done to Beth. What was filling Quinn's head that she would rather focus on the sunset than their daughter?

"Did you leave Beth at the Beacon?" he asked trying to pull her and himself back to the reality before them.

Quinn didn't seem to hear his question as she continued on with her memory tour of the Beacon.

"Every night we sat together on our balconies watching the sunset, though really I watched you more than the sun. It was almost like I was waiting for something, a signal maybe of when everything would change."

"What did you want to change?" he asked unable to help himself.

"You, me, us, I know such a cliché answer, but I realize now that last year at the Beacon all I wanted was for you to turn your head and look at me, see what was right in front of your eyes, you never did. So I kept on waiting."

"Quinn you're not making sense. What about Beth?"

"Beth was with us the whole time and we didn't even know. Do you think she was what brought us together? What made me finally see what was in my heart for you for so long?"

"If you would have asked me this last night I would have said yes without hesitation. It has felt like something greater than the both of us has been pulling us together since I came out of the coma. Once I found out that we had Beth together, it all just fell into place. Our baby was a part of that force that was bringing us finally together. But now…" He shook his head unable to continue.

"I feel that too," she said as if he had never hesitated. "That force, we're meant to be Sam."

"I am finding it really hard to hang onto that Quinn. You're talking about love and being together when all I can wonder is when did you start hating me?"

"I don't hate you."

"Was it when you left me for Puck?"

"Sam no."

"Was it when I hurt you with that other girl and you ended up with Mike? Was it when our night together made you lose Puck again?" The questions flew like bullets. He needed answers.

"I don't…"

"I gotta know," he said not letting her finish. "Maybe if I know the exact moment when you started hating me this would all make sense. I could reconcile all these thoughts spinning in my head."

"Sam I don't hate you. I've never hated you. How could I?" she asked finally dropping his hand.

"If you didn't hate me then why did you do it? Why did you leave my daughter alone and helpless? Did you leave her because you were disappointed she was mine?"

It felt personal, like she had been attacking him with this hideous act. Maybe she hadn't wanted his child so she disposed of her. The thought felt wrong, but so did every other explanation he could come up with. There was no reason for her do something like this.

"I told you before I wanted Beth to be your daughter," she replied. "I prayed for it."

"If you prayed for that like you say, how could you do this?"

"It's not that easy to explain. I was confused and my PPD was clouding my judgment. All I could think was that Beth deserved better than me as a mother."

He had heard this before, he knew her PPD had left her feeling disconnected with Beth but that didn't explain how she had gone from pushing their daughter off onto Mercedes to abandoning her in the snow.

"But you said Beiste and Mercedes were taking care of her anyway, why did you have to leave her out in the snow? Why couldn't Beth have stayed with them?"

"I didn't want her with them, I wanted her with you. I didn't leave her alone I left her for you."

His eyes widened. He had been in no position to take care of a child then, and she knew that. "So you left her outside the hospital?"

"Don't look at me like that. I feel like you're judging me."

"I'm just trying to understand what happened."

"I was confused Sam! Beth was screaming in the backseat and I could barely hear myself think and all I knew is that we needed you."

"I was in a coma!"

As much as he hated he was incapacitated and useless to his family, it was still very much beyond his control. The guilt persisted, even with Kali trying to convince him the feeling was unfounded. Sam couldn't help but wonder if things would have turned out differently if he had been conscious to save Quinn, or more importantly save his daughter.

"I know that! I just thought you would come back for her, for our little miracle."

"Do you know how crazy that sounds?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"I'm not crazy. I was sick," she said jutting her chin out defiantly.

"I get that you were sick, but weren't you getting help by this time? On medication?"

"I stopped taking my pills."

He slowly shook his head a sickening sense of dread was filling him. None of what she was saying made sense. Maybe she was worse off than he realized. "I am trying so hard to understand all of this. It just is all so unbelievable to me. You wanted our daughter with me so you leave her out where she could freeze to death instead of safely at home with my wife. It just doesn't make sense."

"I left her to Mercedes too. I put that in my note."

"There was a note?" Sam was floored everything was feeling so deliberate now. He had convinced himself she had left the baby and ran off confused into the night, not thinking, not feeling, but now her words were proving those thoughts untrue. Quinn had known on some level what she was doing to their daughter.

"I pinned it to her blanket, before I…." She hesitated. Sam could hear the tears choking her words. For the first time during the entire car ride, she seemed emotional about their current situation. "Before I walked away."

"You walked away?" Sam was stunned. Intellectually he knew that was what had happened but to hear Quinn say the words was overwhelming. "How could you do that? Was she crying?" he asked tears stinging his eyes.

He prayed his imagination was far worse than the actual act, because if his daughter endured half of what he was thinking he was going to lose it. The cap on his temper would blow and he didn't know what he would do to Quinn.

"A little, but she stopped once she knew I was leaving. Beth didn't really like me anyway."

And just like that his anger subsided, his heart clenching at her words as he remembered Quinn in the nursery with Beth, so frightened of her own daughter. How could he blow up at Quinn for this when she clearly had suffered with all of this?

He wanted to grab her and shake her get her to realize once and for all the error of her thoughts. Beth didn't hate her, how could she? She was the person that gave her life, the one she was closest to in this world. Even their separation couldn't change that. Sam truly believed that the ties of blood and family transcended any distance. That had to be true, he needed to hang onto that belief because he too had been separated from Beth and he prayed that his bond with his daughter was still strong despite his inability to be a part of her life.

"Quinn stop this. Listen to yourself. Beth is your baby, she needs you and loves you. She probably was frightened when you left her all alone. Can't you see that?"

"At the time she seemed happier without me. Actually she still does. Do you want to know what I was thinking when I walked away from Beth?" Her head fell against his arm as she awaited his response.

"Oh God." Sam shifted away from her turning his whole body toward the window, so tempted to open the door and roll out of the moving car. The backseat was closing in on him and the throbbing in his ears intensified as he tried to push visions of Quinn walking away from his crying baby from his mind. He could hear her sniffling against him, she had eased herself into the middle seat, her thigh skimming his. "I need some air," he said his voice hoarse.

He didn't want to hear anything more, he only wanted to forget, to drown this night in more scotch and wallow in oblivion. Sam rolled down the window a few inches letting in the bitter cold night air. He had been trying to keep calm since he got into the car with her, but now his patience was wearing thin. Repeating the phrase 'she was sick' in his mind was no longer doing the trick to keep his temper at bay now that Quinn had gone from clutching his hand to practically sitting in his lap.

"Quinn please," he pleaded, his forehead pressed against the cold glass. "I need you to give me a little space."

"I'm scared to let go of you."

"I'm right here. I just need some breathing room."

"You're pulling away from me," she said as she cried, her tears stinging him like acid, though it was impossible that he could feel their wetness through the wool of his coat. "I feel like I'm losing you."

He exhaled heavily, fogging up the glass with his breath. "You'll never lose me, we're like the sun and the moon," he said almost under his breath.

He linked his fingers through hers, the only comfort he could offer while maintaining emotional control. A part of him hoped she didn't hear him. It didn't feel right to make false promises. He wasn't sure what would happen to them once he knew everything about what happened to Beth. Sam wasn't sure if they could survive something as big as this.

Finally she let him go, backing away, moving to her seat at the opposite end of the car. "I was finally free when I left her. This weight was lifted the further I got from her and when I got in my car and started driving it was like finally I was myself again."

"Oh Quinn, I don't even know…I don't know what to say now," he said as he stared into her tear filled eyes. With each passing car her eyes illuminated brilliant green, the tears sparkling like stars. It was a breathtaking sight, his Quinn with her pain on display.

"I'm better now. I swear it. I won't hurt her again."

"But how can I know for sure?" he asked turning to stare out the window. He needed to escape those eyes.

Silent miles stretched on as they drove, at least they seemed to be picking up speed, trees whizzed by his window, blurs of houses, and the haze of street lights, their destination a mystery he still was unwilling to solve. His hope was they were heading to the hospital. Quinn had left their daughter bundled up out front of the building before creeping off into the night. Or maybe they were going to a church. Sam could imagine Quinn leaving their baby under God's protection even in her undoubtedly confused state of mind. But as they headed west away from University Hospital, Sam's hopes were dashed. He scrambled to think of another place that Quinn could have left Beth, outside of a shelter, the police department, a school, but when the edge of town came into focus outside of his window and Daley turned onto the interstate, Sam knew that his hopes were leading them nowhere, which was exactly where they seemed to be heading - to nowhere.